Case # 88 Read online

  Project Orthia

  Case # 88

  By: Gary Martinsky

  Copyright © 2021 Gary Martinsky

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Finn Peterson is a retired police officer who comes home to visit his parents. He finds out that they are not living at their old house and the house belongs to someone else. In an attempt to get more data about his parents, Finn finds out that there are no records at all about such people, as they never existed. He is trying to resolve the mystery of the disappearance of his parents.

  “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”

  Mark Twain

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  Review This Book

  Other Books By This Author

  Chapter One

  “How long has it been since you last saw them?”

  “Too long, that’s for sure.”

  Finn had Doug on speakerphone. They were reminiscing about their years on the force together to pass the time on his monotonous drive. Finn wearily observed the low traffic that passed him on his way to the suburban town of Alexandria.

  “It’s nice that you’ll be able to see your folks after all this time. I always told you, you’re working too hard! As much as it sucks that you’re retired, I’m glad you’ll finally get to live a little. Heh, maybe you’ll even find a Mrs. Peterson. Who knows?”

  Finn chuckled as he stopped at a red light. Doug wasn’t wrong. All he’d known for the past fifteen years was work. Crime didn’t take breaks, and solving cases was the only thing Finn was really good at. But, since his head injury, he hadn’t been able to return to the streets, and he’d rather quit than be stuck behind a desk.

  It took several hours of driving to get to Alexandria from Manhattan. It was hard to believe that, for years now, he hadn’t found the time to visit his hometown or his parents. The last time they’d talked was on Christmas day a few years ago. They, too, had been tied up with work, though they never talked much about their research.

  “Your knucklehead wouldn’t get much of it anyway,” Dad would tease him, ruffling Finn’s thinning hair. “Leave the science to Mom and me.” He was joking, of course. Everyone knew that Finn had inherited his parents’ analytical abilities. But they’d occasionally nag him about his career choice—out of genuine parental concern, no doubt. But Finn’s pride had always made it challenging to recognize their motivation for what it was.

  “Did you tell them you’re coming to visit?”

  “Nah, it’s a surprise. I won’t be staying long, and I don’t want them to overreact and cook a feast in my honor. Just wanna see my folks and say hi. Make sure they’re doing okay.”

  “I see. So what’s next for you?”

  Finn grunted. That was the question now, wasn’t it?

  Finn arrived when the sun was just starting to set, and the streetlights were already glowing in anticipation of the falling darkness. Familiar landmarks began to come into view with increasing frequency as childhood and early adult memories began flooding his mind. Here was that corner shop where he used to buy ice cream. And later cigarettes. I wonder if the shop clerk would still recognize me? Finn could have taken Main Street and saved time, but he chose to take a longer route, the one he’d taken almost every day while riding his bike to school.

  Finn allowed his memories to guide him to his destination. Here was his neighbors’ familiar white fence! The trees had grown even taller. And behind that corner, he’d see the place where he had grown up. As he was making the turn, imagining his childhood home in as much detail as possible, he pressed his foot hard on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt.

  A real estate agent smiled broadly at him, frozen in time on a coroplast FOR SALE sign. In confusion and disbelief, Finn exited the car, feeling a tight knot forming in his stomach. His mind started grasping for optimistic explanations as the absurdity of such an intense reaction to a FOR SALE sign hit him.

  Did they move and forget to tell me?

  Did I take a wrong turn?

  But Finn’s gut feeling told him that something was off. There was no way his folks would put their house up for sale without so much as a heads-up. No matter how distant and busy they’d been in recent years. And what reason could there be? Finn didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. He approached the house casually, remaining alert to every subtle sound. It would be a while before the sun would totally disappear behind the tiled roofs of the neighboring houses. He threw a quick glance into a narrow window. It was too dark inside to make out any detail. All he could see were several pieces of obscure furniture, concealed by some sort of plastic covers.

  He knocked on the door cautiously and turned the knob gently after waiting for a response for a few seconds. The door was locked, unsurprisingly. Going any farther without any intel would be unwise, so he decided to step away carefully and walk back to his car. His parents were clearly not inside the empty house, and there was no sense in breaking in and getting himself arrested. He pulled out his phone, taking a picture of the deceptively innocent sign with the happy, well-dressed agent staring at him through his empty, two-dimensional eyes, mocking Finn’s helplessness with his perfect, cheerful smile. He then dialed Doug’s personal cell phone number.

  “Finn? What’s going on?”

  Finn was already backing out of the driveway and into the street. “I need your help….”

  Doug had been sitting at his desk, slowly making his way through a pile of reports, when Finn called him.

  Finn told him he was driving back to Manhattan. So far, there were no signs he was being followed.

  “Look, Doug, let’s get this over with. Yes, I know where my parents live! It’s impossible… Come on, check again! Please.”

  “Look, man…” Doug was cautiously peeking at the captain’s office from behind his computer screen. “I wasn’t supposed to check the first time! You’re not a cop anymore!”

  “Please, Doug! My parents never lived in that house? They never paid taxes from that house? Never owned a car? You can see something’s going on here! We don’t have time to waste!”

  “Okay…” Doug rubbed his eyes, feeling suddenly tired. “I’ll find out everything I can. But I do need more time. How about you meet me at John Lennon Memorial at 11 tonight, and I’ll tell you what I’ve got?”

  “Fine…” Finn sighed. “And…thank you.”

  Doug hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, moving the stacks of papers in front of him. It looked like the reports would have to wait.

  The sun had long set by the time Finn arrived at Central Park. On his way, walking towards Strawberry Fields, he’d been considering one wild possibility after another, but nothing made sense. Doug hadn’t been able to find any information on his family. It was as though they’d never existed. The house had been under various owners’ names, but there was no mention whatsoever of the Petersons all the way back to its original inhabitants. Checking records from their workplace would take more time since it was a government-sponsored scientific facility. Had something happened to them because of the work they were doing? His father, Michael Peterson, was a geneticist. His mother, Clara, was a behavioral scientist. That much Finn knew, but now he wished he’d questioned them more about what exactly they’d been doing for Orthia Labs.

  Consumed by these thoughts, Finn barely noticed the hour flying by. He was sitting o
n a bench at the memorial alone in the dark. He looked at his watch. It was past midnight. What in the world is Doug doing? There were no calls or messages from his friend. And Finn’s several attempts at contacting him throughout the evening had been unanswered. After waiting for a bit longer, Finn decided to move on to his next possible lead. No doubt, Doug had gotten caught up in something important back at the station. Finn was confident he would contact him as soon as he got any information. In the meantime, there was no point waiting around, so he walked back to his car and began driving downtown.

  Working in the force for as long as Finn had, occasionally, you’d make unlikely friends. Max Marino was one such friend. He was definitely the lesser evil, compared to the folks Finn would routinely investigate and lock behind bars, with occasional help from Max himself.

  If you asked Max, he didn’t consider himself any kind of evil at all. He was an entrepreneur. And, in business, you either played fair or made money. You had to grab every opportunity that came your way. Because if you didn’t, someone else would grab it first. Max lived in the concrete jungle, with all its brutal beauty and unending strife for survival. And he fancied himself the Tarzan of that jungle. If Tarzan had run an underground gambling ring, of course. And that was where Max was this evening, sipping a cocktail and having a lively discussion with a few business associates.

  “Mr. Marino.” An attractive young waitress from the restaurant upstairs tactfully tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Peterson is here to see you.”

  “Ah, my old friend! I wonder what good news he brings?” Max looked around the table at his guests. “Please continue, gentlemen. This will only take a moment.”

  Max left the room, wondering what the retired cop could possibly want with him this time.

  Finn was waiting for his drink in a comfortable booth when Max pushed himself gracefully into the narrow space between the table and the bench, taking a seat opposite him.

  “My old friend! To what do I owe such an unexpected pleasure?” Max folded his arms comfortably and leaned slightly towards Finn, maintaining eye contact and a friendly smile. He was wearing an extravagant red velvet suit, contrasting with his bright green eyes.

  Finn hesitated. Under normal circumstances, he’d never involve such a shady character in a personal situation. But this was a special case. He wasn’t worried about accidentally revealing his family’s address or the circumstances of the case. After all, how much worse could it get? And yet, he had to be careful. He needed to give Max just enough to work with without revealing the level of Finn’s personal involvement in the matter.

  “Say…friend. I hope business is going well.” Finn looked around the half-empty establishment and returned his gaze back to the cheerful face opposite him.

  “Naturally! You know me, Finn. Honest, hardworking folks like you and me—we know how to get stuff done. How to keep things going, you know?” Max nodded and winked at the waitress, who put down two drinks with complimentary snacks on the table. “You know, you should have taken me up on my offer. I could use a guy like you around here! Especially since you’re already so familiar with my work….”

  “Max.” Finn abruptly interrupted the sales pitch. “I need some information.”

  “Oh? Well, if you want to obtain something of value, then you must have something to offer me, I’m sure?” His smile widened as his intense green eyes focused on Finn’s face.

  Finn had known full well how this conversation would go, and he was aware that his leverage was now gone along with his badge. But he was prepared. “You can have my car.”

  Max looked puzzled for a brief moment, and then his face lit up with even more enthusiasm. “My, my… Sounds like someone’s in a pinch! What happened, Finn?”

  Finn leaned back comfortably, trying to take control of the conversation. “First…you get me some valuable information about this house.” He slipped a handwritten note across the table with the address on it. He glanced at his black 1993 Toyota Supra parked outside. He was going to switch to electric anyway. And he couldn’t think of anything else to offer Max for his services. “And then…you get the car.”

  For a long minute after Finn left, Max remained seated in the booth, carefully studying the note. Unusual. Very unusual indeed. Don’t worry, my friend. I’ll be sure to find out what I can about this address. But, more importantly, I’ll find out what you’re up to and what it is that makes you so desperate. He crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and grinned. And then we’ll be talking on MY terms.

  Finn briefly passed Central Park on his way back to Alexandria. It was evident that no one was waiting for him there. Doug hadn’t returned any of Finn’s texts or calls. It was unusual, but he trusted that his friend would reach out as soon as he had something valuable to share. It was already well past midnight, but the sun wouldn’t rise for a few more hours. Finn was determined to gather all the clues he could get before the end of the night.

  Chapter Two

  Finn arrived back at the house just as the grayish silhouettes of rooftops were starting to emerge against the backdrop of the late-night sky. He parked a few blocks away and approached the house from the backyard this time. Staying just far enough away to remain out of sight, Finn observed for a couple of minutes, but there wasn’t time to waste. He knew his folks had never felt the need to rely on fancy security systems. But, under the current circumstances, he couldn’t be too careful. Who knew what kind of adjustments had been made to the house? Finn carefully approached the back entrance, staying alert to any possible sensory input from inside the dark living room behind the glass door. There was indeed one camera overlooking the entire entry, but the small kitchen window right beside it seemed to be in its blind spot.

  Luckily, Finn knew precisely what to do. Back in the day, he used to sneak in and out of that same window to go hang out with his school friends after curfew. Just slide a screwdriver or fork into the narrow slot between the window and the frame, and the slightly faulty lock would readily pop open if you twisted the tool just right. Finn had come prepared with a device on his keychain.

  When Finn landed in the kitchen, he found it had been cleared out. Some of the empty cabinets and drawers were slightly open. Some dirty towels and cleaning products were sitting in the kitchen sink. The towels were still wet, producing a whitish puddle of water and bleach that hadn’t had time to dry. The place had been cleaned recently, which added credibility to the idea that the house had really been put up for sale.

  Finn investigated the living room. Without making a sound, he moved along the shaded wall, carefully remaining in the security camera’s blind spot. It was hard to make out the furniture, but as far as he could tell, everything except the heavy dining room table, several bookshelves, and a few vintage display cabinets had been replaced by more modern items. All the framed pictures of his family on the walls had been replaced by stock images of perfect families. The trinkets and souvenirs from the display cabinets were gone, replaced by generic vases and statuettes.

  As Finn continued looking around the room, a sudden sound from upstairs startled him. He listened attentively. He wasn’t alone in here. And the sound was coming from almost directly above him, from Dad’s office. Finn reached for his hip, his hand momentarily grasping for a nonexistent holster of a handgun. Ah… That’s right. Old habits die hard. Finn retreated back into the kitchen. Without knowing who was in the house, how many of them there were, or how well they were armed, he couldn’t afford to take any chances. Crouching, he pulled out a kitchen knife from the knife block. Not bad for self-defense. Whoever was upstairs could be his best chance for gathering valuable information, but they wouldn’t be of any help to him dead. And assuming they had guns, it wouldn’t do him much good to burst in with a knife. You don’t take a knife to a gunfight, after all. Finn glanced at the kitchen sink. On the other hand…

  Finn climbed the stairs, counting as he went to skip over the squeaky ones. He was momentarily startled by a distant chirp coming fro
m outside. The pale shadows of the stairs were getting longer. It will be morning soon, and I better hurry. The office door was ajar, and Finn could clearly make out the sound of rustling pages inside. He approached carefully, armed with a spray bottle of bleach at the ready. Sure, it wasn’t as lethal as a gun, but in a close-quarters situation, it could prove to be very effective at repelling an armed attacker. Unlike a handgun, which shoots one bullet at a time and needs to be aimed precisely, the chlorine solution bottle could hit a wide area, potentially stunning or incapacitating multiple opponents at a time. The firearm’s advantage in range and accuracy would become less significant in a space as small as the office. And the effect that the potent chemical would have on mucous membranes of exposed orifices couldn’t be underestimated. Coupled with the element of surprise, it would give Finn an advantage for at least long enough to assess the situation. And, with any luck, he could move into close combat and employ his second weapon—a rolling pin wrapped tightly in a towel. The checkered fabric wouldn’t significantly reduce the force of the blunt weapon’s strike, but it would muffle the sound, minimizing the risk of alerting additional potential enemies.

  Finn got as close to the door as possible, finding the best angle to leverage his body for a silent but powerful push. Hoping the interior would still be roughly the same as he remembered it, he stepped forward, pushing the door with his hip and shoulder. There was a loud gasp and a thud as a heavy item fell onto the floor. The air filled with the acrid smell of chlorine as a slim figure tripped behind the desk and fell.

  Finn retreated behind the corner. The spray bottle hadn’t been practical because the person inside the office had been facing away from him, and he didn’t have enough time to get around the desk to hit the target before they could shoot. Finn had lost the element of surprise and had to quickly formulate a new plan. Luckily, he was confident that there was only one opponent in the room, making things a little easier.